SEARCH : DESTROY
by Lady of the Shire
Summary: A student-teacher relationship is marked by disciplinary actions. Who knew a simple game of "tag" could be so dangerous…


SUMMARY: A student-teacher relationship is marked by disciplinary actions. Who knew a simple game of "tag" could be so dangerous…

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

To put it simply, this is the third remake. I originally wrote this one-shot a few summers ago after watching an episode of The Secret Saturdays. (I actually miss that show…I wonder if they are ever going to resume it.) Nonetheless, while in the midst of writing my newest work, I went back to read over this product again and realized that it was utter crap, for my standards. So, I decided to use this as an opportunity to take a break and experiment with something new by improving it each chance I get. With that said, I will leave you with this final note:

_Successful writing is re-writing. Write until the prose is constructed into a window, offering a glimpse into the author's psyche._

* * *

Lady of the Shire's

SEARCH:DESTROY

* * *

_DISCLAMER: MegaMan NT Warrior and all related entities are the property of ShoPro, Viz Media, Ryo Takamisaki, and related partners._

* * *

_Keep running._

"One of the most critical aspects of battle is situational awareness…"

_Don't look back._

"Remember, it is important to have a strategy of attack before engaging the enemy…"

_Don't stop._

"The element of surprise is only as useful as the situation it is applied to…"

_Just keep moving forward._

"And _never_ surrender even if you have exhausted all other available options…never…"

* * *

_**Part I**_

"You won't go any farther than here," cries out a voice from behind me.

I turn around, hoping that I have at least placed some distance between myself and the enemy.

"Target locked," announces SearchMan from some hidden point.

Unfortunately, distance is irrelevant in this situation as there appears to be no one else amongst the cyan landscape, layered with a white grid and seasoned with large cyan cylindrical pillars at regular intervals. All this time and I still haven't gotten that fact through my thick skull. Literally bored out of my mind during those virtual seminars, I would wish that some monstrosity would froth out of the ground and engulf me, putting me out of my misery. Yes, it was a rather dark notion but hyperbolized, no. Regardless of how many times I play the understudy of the White Shoulder Angel for my easily-distracted brunette of a companion, it is difficult not to sympathize with his (blunt) yet honest opinion of such sessions. It is just like summer school: A nightmare straight out of Hell. Furthermore, what the crap are all those simulations for if it is all useless during a real-world (or virtual world) scenario? 'Always consider situational awareness?' When? Before or after I am blown to Kingdom Come! As I continue to flee, I do distinctly remember one topic that (for some reason) still lingers in my mind, even now. Heck, it might be the only piece of useful information I extracted from all of those tiresome NetSavior seminars: _Do you know your enemy? _What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I know him: he's a near-sighted puritan with an agitated trigger finger for crying out loud!

**BOOM!**

An explosion roars towards me. I dash to the left at the last moment. Then, sometime during that instinctive dodge, I realize that if I was just a split second slower I would have been blown to smithereens.

_Why is he using real artillery! _I ask myself.

As I evade the next attack, I twist my entire body around with one fluid circular motion to direct my attention towards the origin of the shot. For a moment, I register nothing but a swirl of that pastel azure. Unfortunately, once everything comes to focus once more, I have to speculate that the source is at some indefinite distance. I can't even make a visual confirmation on his location.

My attacks won't even reach over this long range...

When I successfully connect with the ground I remember something very important. _Wait, that's right!_ I remind myself.

"WHY DID I AGREE NOT TO USE ANY WEAPONS?" I scream towards the heavens as I stomp down my left foot in frustration. "EVASIVE TRAINING MY A—"

**BOOM! **

**BOOM! **

**BOOM!**

Three more explosions? Those were more powerful than the previous ones.

So, he's getting serious now.

That will prove to be a problem for me, especially since I have such a limited means of defending myself.

I wonder if he gets some sort of twisted satisfaction from spying on me from some hidden recess as I scurry around like a rodent in some sort of perverted mine-ridden maze. If I didn't know any better, I would think that he only suggested this training exercise as a means of getting even with me! (I didn't do anything to him!)

Then, as serendipitous as a bad omen, I sense the Devil behind me.

I spin around, preparing for any malicious trick he has up his figurative sleeve to strike me down with.

"Right in my line of sight!" I hear the soldier announce.

_**BOOM!**_

An even more earthshattering eruption came just a moment too early for me to dodge. Within seconds I find myself unceremoniously flying almost halfway across the training field and (to my embarrassment) squealing with the likes of a frightened elementary schoolgirl with my limbs flailing about me in a mad furor. Suddenly, while in mid-flight, I find my entire vision is immediately blinded by a thick, putrid black miasma. At first, I am just annoyed, suspecting that it is a simple smokescreen. However, I quickly realize that there is more to that smoke then at first glance, particularly when I start to feel a bit…funny.

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately concentrating on maintaining functionality.

It is then when I realize that this substance is actually programmed with an essence of a virus. It is a new technology that was developed in collaboration between a number of scientists (including Lan's father) as a new weapon of choice for law enforcement and the military to use against any form of resistance. The concept was simple: specific lines of code correlating to the destructive qualities unique to a deleted virus are extracted and then embedded into the development of the programs that execute any sort of weaponry, such as the smoke bomb engulfing me. Fortunately, this variation did not appear to pose the risk of _permanently_ damaging my sensory programs. It just might have left me paralyzed for about…I don't know, A FEW HOURS!

To be honest, that was the last straw.

It was one thing if we were fighting on equal terms. However, I have been put at a disadvantage and now I am being lowered to some crude mockery of a Guinea pig?

That was just wrong.

I will be blunt: I am pissed off!

After my impromptu analysis, I find myself rocketing in any random direction to escape the noxious cloud. For a slight moment, I almost blanched in horror even considering the possibility that my source of hardship at the moment might have secretly disabled my flying capabilities. I internally sigh as the boosters roar to life and grant me some sort of constellation for my (futile) efforts. To be honest, it would have sucked to have been grounded. Talons ripped from their bases _and_ wings clipped? Might as well just stick a fork in me. Eventually, I try to undermine a rather clumsy crash-landing with the most impressive summersault I could muster. But of course, it always helps to actually pay attention to what is behind you, situational awareness as they call it. I jerk around from eying the ever expanding cloud only to come to a screeching halt when I find myself staring down the barrel of a high-powered homing weapon.

Yeah, not my best move.

_Click_: the sound of the trigger.

But I wasn't going to let that keep me from speaking my mind.

I fold my arms and glare after him.

In response, he narrows his vision as he prepares to fire.

_God! What is wrong with me? I should be running for my life! I am literally being held at gun-point!_

I expect him to at least say something.

_He can shoot me at any moment! Why am I just standing here!_

But, there is no exchange of words whatsoever! My irritation stems from the unresponsive gunslinger in front of me and my own frustration in suppressing my cowardly conscience.

With that, I begin tapping my foot with impatience. I unfold my arms and stand akimbo while gritting my teeth in frustration. Fortunately, this new gesture finally grabs his attention.

SearchMan slightly lowers his weapon, somewhat bewildered. "What?" he bluntly asks.

"You think you are superior, don't you!" I hiss at him. I want to ensure that he could sense every wave of malevolence I am emitting in his direction. I want him to _feel _my anger! I want to **crush **him with my rage! He needs to understand _exactly _the wrong he has committed and beg for forgiveness he obviously doesn't deserve! To be rendered to nothing more than a moving target! A rabbit?

He just stares blankly at me. "What are you talking about?" he says.

Damn! What the hell is wrong with him! Is he that oblivious!

"You know _exactly _what I am talking about you…you giant green idiot!" I spat waving my fists about.

That got his attention.

He narrows his eyes at me. "What the hell has gotten into you?" he demands.

"That stupid smokescreen you launched at me!" I retort, pointing in the direction where the once ominous cloud of black smoke has now dissipated into the surroundings. "Whatever virus it was infused with nearly _got into me_ and SHUT ME DOWN!" With each word in that statement, I stormed closer until by the end my rant I was literally screaming in his face.

SearchMan is slightly taken back by my display but remains rooted to his spot. He lifts his weapon-hand, which has returned to its original state, and scratches the side of his face in a contemplative manner. "Oh, yes. I might have forgotten to mention this but I also wanted to use this training session as an opportunity to test a few new features I recently installed," he said. That is so like him. He simply conjures some idea and expects everyone he drags into his poorly drawn circle to comply.

"_Hey, MegaMan! Not that you would agree to this in a billion years, but I wanted to see how many holes I can put into you with my new toy!"_ is what I actually processed his statement as. I don't give a damn how high of a rank he possesses, how many enemies he has felled, or his "dedication to service"! He's nothing more than a freaking five-year old at Christmastime who just found a bow and suction-tipped arrows underneath the tree…and has no one to play William Tell with…

I twitched.

Then, through a number of mechanical movements, my mouth conjures a twisted grin. Mind you that I am still less than a few centimeters from his face, so at this point, he has already grown uncomfortable of being in such close proximity to me. This turn of events does nothing to appease that uneasiness. As my demeanor slowly shifts from one of rage to absolute madness, I watch the sniper slowly raise his head until he eyes me like some poor excuse for a posh aristocrat. Of course, his display is somewhat ruined by the fact that he looks as if he has an upset stomach.

"S-so, I am n-nothing m-more than a G-guinea Pig, am I?" I stammer into the form of a question. At this point my entire body has been inflicted by a tremor, which is not the result of the mentioned virus extract. If I were to look into a mirror at this point, I would probably think that I am at the point of breaking into a million pieces. At least, I felt that way right now…

Now SearchMan becomes nervous. "N-no! That wasn't what I intended at all!" he says. Then, he attempts to place a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "MegaM—"

But is too late! My arms are already moving on their own. The last thing I remember was latching to the gesture of camaraderie, planting my palm onto his midsection, and heaving that entire weight (armed to the brim with who knows how many weapons to inflict mass destruction upon our fair world) over my head in one motion. I don't think he even realized what had happened until he is flat on his back, looking up at my towering figure that casted a shadow on his eagle-spread frame.

However, the look on his face is well worth the amount of effort! Though there is a possibility that I will be unable to move tomorrow…heavier than I thought…

He came down harder that I had anticipated, leaving a large crater on the tiled surface. But that is okay! Karma will ensure that I receive justice. His quirky expression of confusion contrasts with that of my triumphant sneer. "Hey SearchMan, I forgot to mention that I also have a new trick up my sleeve that I have been willing to try out!" I chime while still wearing the guise of a Devil. It is strange how quickly it can possess another just from physical contact.

My sniper counterpart appears as if he is in the midst of inhaling a gasp when he final realizes what is about to transpire. "MegaMan, don't do this!"

"You want to play?" I giggle, placing my hands behind my back in an innocent fashion.

After, I leer over him. "Then, LET'S PLAY!" I growl, cracking my knuckles.

* * *

_**Part II**_

The rules of engagement have changed…for the better.

It is a desperate attempt but I might have just figured out a loophole in this soldier's scheme! Running away wasn't the best option for two reasons: 1) His _forte _is over long ranges. 2) It makes me look like a friggin' coward! Close-range combat has to be my last option, particularly since I still have that tiny setback of not being able to use any of my _other _weapons at my disposal. They say that the most dangerous weapon of them all is the body, when wielded properly!

So I decide to execute my little experiment while still wondering about how I am even going to make it out of this scenario in one piece. However, don't betray that uncertainty with each jab or kick I swing in SearchMan's direction. Jump, crouch, punch…all every good verbs. But, they just don't seem to carry that same dynamism that I want to express myself with. I have even better ones in mind:

**Launch **(transitive verb) [_lwanch_] : To rocket into the air and return hurtling down in an attempt to "sever" my apparently panicked opponent with an axe kick.

**Coil **(verb) [_koyl_]: To whip about only to be blocked by a casually raised arm; a foiled attempt at a roundhouse kick.

**Pummel **(transitive verb) [púmm'l]: Unleash a flurry of punches, directed at the opponent's weak points.

My definitions might not be the most universal but they do pretty well at describing what was about to transpire.

My first instinct was to stomp on his face. I know that sounds a bit cruel but given the fact that I literally dominated him for a few fleeting moments, I felt that it was the best attempt at crushing that massively enormous ego of his like a cockroach. I suppose the Fiend had infected me with power. In that case, I don't mind this type of virus. However, SearchMan quickly impedes my thundering stride as his hands fly out to latch about my ankle. I lose my balance and topple over, falling rather heavily on my back. When I respond with a low roundhouse kick, one of the hands that had embedded itself into my captured foot lashes out to stop the other from connecting with his vulnerable face. Now I am in a rather uncomfortable predicament, flat on my back flailing like a beached salmon that has been gripped onto by a giant green grizzly bear (okay so he has more of a camouflage). I am recoiling frantically, trying to at least post some damage on him, only to realize that I am about to taste my own medicine…so to speak. Somehow within the confusion, SearchMan has found a way to sit on his knees, crouch down, and then back onto his feet while still struggling to keep my legs at bay. Now I feel as if we are attempting some pathetic excuse for that wheelbarrow race Lan's team lost during the sports festival a few weeks ago. (That was actually pretty funny.) This psychopath is preparing to fling me half across the field!

I won't have it! I am not going back to running around scared to by wits!

With my hands planted firmly on the ground (and slightly embedded into the gridded surface) I make a final last-ditched effort to retaliate as SearchMan drags me along the ground, trying to lift me into the air. Somehow, his grip has weakened a bit. Perhaps it is due to his grip becoming loose from our mad game of tug-of-war, only I am playing the role of the rope _and _the enemy simultaneously! Nonetheless, I trigger one foot straight into his lower jaw. His head snaps back as I feel his grip loosen about my other foot as well. Now is my chance! I use my hands as a pivot to support my weight as I complete a successful backflip before I plant my feet firmly on the ground once more and charge forward with my fists raised.

Despite the force of my kick, I actually find him still standing. He is staggering a bit but prepared for my frontal assault.

Strike! One! Two! Left! Right! I have not had this much of an exercise in what feels like ages! But, don't get me wrong! I'm no warmonger. However, someone like myself enjoys the thrill of a "friendly" match occasionally. So far, the impending summer does not seem to promise as many adventures for outgoing young lads and their ever-faithful azure companions as anticipated. Let's face it: even the villains need to go on holiday, which leaves NetSaviors without a J-O-B. So that leaves me with fewer opportunities to maintain my physical prowess. What I miss even more is the plethora of senses that stimulate within me. I don't care whether it is actual or fabricated, fear is the same regardless of its source. Add suspense and satisfaction to that list.

_Don't forget astonishment:_

He dodges all of them!

_In addition, confusion:_

How can something so freaking heavy move so swiftly!

_Frustration is also an appropriate term:_

All joking aside, for someone who seemed to be rather intimidated by my verbose performance, he is sure confident in himself! Just look at his face!

Wait. Either my pathetic excuse for a conscience is impairing my judgment (again) or SearchMan has more issues than I first believed.

I leap back to a comfortable distance. The (bastard) sniper is slightly crouched over but makes no effort to pursue me.

"What the heck are you so smug about?" I jibe, fists still raised in a defensive boxing stance.

"You finally figured it out," he humors, now standing erect with his arms folded.

I'm confused. My body language translates. "Figured out what?"

"What this entire training session was about. It is just like I said before, you don't need a powerful arsenal of Chips in order to win," he scoffs while shaking his head. "Not when you have the power of ingenuity." The soldier taps lightly at his helmet upon making such a statement.

Great. So there is a lesson to be learned. So, what letter and number was this sponsored by? "Poetic. So I guess that means that I can grasp Victory by her chubby hands, eh?" I smirk.

To my surprise, he actually laughs. Have you ever noticed that there is one individual that you never want to see express a certain emotion? I am not talking about the obvious. Anger is universal. I mean the less popular expressions, like giddiness and indifference. For a one-dimensional stereotype like me, it would be anger. For a fourth-dimensional crusader like SearchMan, it is…

"I never said that you would win," he sneers.

_Oh, my God! Did I just give him a compliment? 'Fourth-dimensional crusader'?_

Okay…here it comes.

"Despite your revelation," he begins softly. "Your situational awareness still SUCKS!" he yells.

I realize the trap that I have walked into when his foot stomps on the ground to emphasize the last word of his statement,.

I look down.

I turn around.

I peer to my left.

I twist to my right.

I scan over the landscape while extending my height as much as the balls of my feet would allow.

As far as I could see…grenades. EVERYWHERE!

How the hell did he even do **that **? Without me realizing it! I was literally looking at the floor less than a few seconds ago. Between my fury and his attempts to block my attacks, how could he have—

"I see that I have left you speechless," I hear him announce. I notice how the circular objects have conveniently been arranged in a small circumference around where each of us stand.

"How? When? WHAT?" I sputter as I frantically dart around trying to find an escape route.

"I told you that I had a number of new features that I wanted to test," he reminds me. "This is only the second one."

My head snaps back to his attention. "S-second one!" I parrot. "How many do you—"

I am gawking at a pair of red eyes of a looming shadow. Crap. I took my eyes off of him for one second and…

"I thought this would be a more effective means of making you understand why we go through these 'insufferable seminars', to put into your words into lighter terms," he said as he glared down at me.

So he heard me that one time.

**Teacher, is this how to discipline your "favorite"?**

"The Rules of Engagement are constantly changing," he continues, reaching for my hand. "If you are not careful, you will be swept away by them." He places something into my open palm, obstructed from view by his. Then, he draws his hand away. When he finally reveals his "present" I swear I could have just fainted where I stood. I looked up to note a very dangerous wolfish grin and a pin displayed about his respective outstretched index finger.

"Or blown away, depending on your fancy," he quips.

I hate it when he attempts to do humor.

Thankfully he had already let go of me because I don't think I could even fathom how quickly I launched myself into the air, dropping the triggered grenade in the process.

Oh, wait.

That is right.

His _forte _is over long ranges.

Hovering in mid-air, I turn around.

I look down.

The grenades are gone.

My conscience is reciting a colorful hosanna in my praise that I dare not repeat.

I forgot about the "Element of Surprise".

There is a barrel looking at me, carrying a bullet with my name written all over it…

* * *

SEARCH:DESTORY

END

* * *

R&R

LOTS

_Note:_

Grammar and phonetic pronunciations were obtained from the Encarta Online Dictionary.

I am not sure if The Children's Workshop would appreciate my attempt at a humorous allusion.


End file.
